


In the Dark There Are No Strangers

by great_whatsit



Category: Hap and Leonard (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hap has a lot of feelings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_whatsit/pseuds/great_whatsit
Summary: Leonard had been through some wars before he even left for Nam, so the defensive shape to his shoulders and the alertness in his stance weren’t anything new. He looked older, though. Hap couldn't have said how or why, but the Len on that porch had aged a lot more than the 18 months he’d been gone.
Relationships: Hap Collins/Leonard Pine
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	In the Dark There Are No Strangers

Hap locked his truck and looked around. The house before him was painted white; peeling paint and a slightly saggy porch, but it looked solid enough. Behind it there was a barn, looking far less solid but still standing, for the moment.

Hap’s reverie was broken by the sound of a door opening, of boot heels on the porch.

“Hap? They let you out already?”

Leonard had been through some wars before he even left for Nam, so the defensive shape to his shoulders and the alertness in his stance weren’t anything new. He looked older, though. Hap couldn't have said how or why, but the Len on that porch had aged a lot more than the 18 months he’d been gone.

“Leonard. Was gonna say the same to you. Welcome home.”

Closer now, Hap could see the long scar that split Len’s face, tender pink still visible down its center. But he could also see the smile in his eyes, the joy he had learned to detect in Leonard’s habitually contrary expression. Without warning, he took the porch steps in one jump and put his arms around Len. He heard his friend’s indignant grunt, and felt him hug back, tighter than he had since they were kids. Hap’s eyes filled with tears.

“Good to see you, Len.”

“You as ugly as always, Hap. No wonder Trudy finally left.” He paused, and stepped back. “‘m sorry about that, by the way.”

Hap rubbed at his eyes, grateful for the familiar rhythms they’d already found. “No, Leonard, you’re not.”

“No," admitted Leonard, "I’m not.”

+++

Leonard insisted that the reason his house was full of frilly curtains and terrible Biblical figurines was because he was renting it, fully furnished, from a friend of Memaw’s who couldn’t take care of it anymore, but Hap had his doubts. Or rather, Hap expressed doubts, just to hear Len get defensive; to feel how right they still were together. Leonard was undeniably different — cracked, like that scar down his face made literal — but the parts of Hap and Leonard that fit together were still there, ragged in spots but still working. Hap hadn’t realized how worried he’d been til he felt the relief washing over him; til he had to duck his head to hide the big, fond grin that took over his face when Len rose to his bait.

+++

Hap and Leonard were sitting on (the plastic cover on) the couch in the front room of Len’s house, well into the six-pack Hap had brought with him as a sort of housewarming gift. He finally looked at Len — really looked.

“You look like hell, Leonard.”

Leonard shook his head in derision. “Well excuse me, Mr. Conscientious Objector — I’m sorry you don’t like that I got wounded in the war you decided to take off.”

Behind his bottle of beer, Hap worked to keep his face stern. “You know that ain’t what I mean, Leonard. You were never pretty, but now you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. I thought that would get easier once you were home.”

“Hard to sleep, Hap, when there’s explosions and knives and fucking VC everywhere whenever you close your damn eyes.” Leonard kept his eyes firmly on the wall in front of him, a hand tight on the neck of his beer.

Hap nodded slowly. He stared at the wall, too.

+++

No invitation was issued aloud, but by the end of the week, Hap had moved in. His bag of clothes was behind the ancient chair in the corner of the front room, and he was allowed to take the cover off of the couch each night, so he could sleep without sticking to the plastic. He and Len spent most weekdays snipping roses together, being paid pennies, and on the weekends they’d work on the barn: building kennels for the dogs Leonard said he would have one day, planning how to create some sort of space they could use to spar and train, so they could remind their bodies they still had functions other than hammering and cutting.

They’d trade off cooking: Len did breakfasts, and Hap would do big, basic dinners so they would have leftovers to take for lunch at work. They ate lots of pasta and chicken. And flank steak, cos it was cheap, and Italian dressing could make it taste real good without much effort.

But at night. At night, Hap would lie awake, waiting, eyes screwed shut. And, always, it would come: he’d hear Leonard moan in agony, or scream — actually scream — or whimper, just barely audibly. Hap was only _listening_ and it was destroying him, he couldn’t imagine what Len was going through (had gone through, was reliving again and again and again), and he didn’t know how to help. He’d never met anyone prouder than Len, so he knew better than to ask. But letting his brother suffer didn’t sit right with him, either.

When Hap finally acted, it wasn’t a choice. He heard Len sobbing, a desperate, wrenching sound, and before he knew it he was standing over him without a clue what to do, but possessed by a desperation to make it stop. To take Leonard’s pain away.

Len,” he hissed. _“Len!"_

Leonard was lying on his back with one arm thrown over his face, his shoulders shaking with wrenching sobs. His eyes were open, but they were staring, unseeing.

Hap touched the top of Len’s right shoulder, gingerly, fearing a violent reaction. Nothing. It was like he wasn’t there at all. There was nothing for Len but more pain, and wracking sobs. Finally, Hap put his hand in the middle of Leonard’s heaving chest. Featherlight at first, then firmer, bolder. He sat on the edge of the bed, and just talked, his voice as firm as the weight of his hand on Len’s chest.

“Hey Leonard. It’s Hap. You’re home, Leonard, it’s safe here. I won’t ever let anything happen to you, Len. You know that. Not ever. I’m here, and it’s ok. You can sleep, you don’t have to worry anymore. I’m here.”

Leonard never seemed to wake, never acknowledged Hap or his words, but his tears slowly wound down, and his breathing leveled out, Hap’s hand still anchoring him to the bed. To the room, to the time. Hap waited a good while, rubbing Len’s chest absently with his fingers as he sat by him, ignoring the pins and needles in his arm. Only when he was sure Len was sleeping did he go back to his couch.

+++

And so it became their ritual. Or maybe the ritual was Hap’s alone — Len never said anything, and there was no way Hap was going to bring it up. Either way, every night when Len’s nightmares started, Hap would go to him, big hand solid on Len’s chest and his voice rumbling inside his own, making sounds so Leonard knew he was there.

_“Len, we really need to talk about laundry. Have you been wearing this tshirt all week? Humans don’t smell that way in polite company, Leonard. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”_

_“I’m thinking about flank steak for dinner tomorrow night, Leonard. And maybe we should go into town for burgers and fries at Millie’s on Friday? They’ve got that two for one special if you eat early, and you know I can always eat early.”_

_“Hey Len, you know you don’t have to go through this alone? You’re my brother, Leonard. Your burden is mine, all you have to do is put it on my damn shoulders. Let me help.”_

+++

Hap was sitting at the kitchen table in his robe drinking coffee when Len came in, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t look happy, exactly, but he looked rested; so much better that Hap couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“Why you got that big, dopey smile on your big, dopey face, Hap? How many times I gotta tell you that you’re not my type?”

Len turned toward the fridge as he spoke, trying unsuccessfully to hide the delight in his eyes with the motion.

Hap sighed dramatically, lifting one hand to his heart. “I know, Len, I know. You can’t blame a man for dreaming, though, can you?”

Len’s shout of derisive laughter was the only answer Hap got.

+++

What Hap internally had started calling Leonard’s night terrors had gotten less severe, for the most part. They still arrived every night, but rarely as bad as they had been. (Sometimes they’d be late, and Hap would let himself hope that his friend was finally free of their clutches, but they always came crashing down on Len before the sun rose.)

One night two or three weeks into Hap’s routine, though, the intensity ramped up once again. When he got there, Leonard was curled up in a fetal position, whining in what sounded like terror, barely moving. Unable to reach Len’s chest, Hap rubbed his back and offered his usual patter, but it didn’t get through. Leonard’s suffering was such that Hap was near panic — he’d been promising every night that he wouldn’t let anything happen, wouldn’t let anything hurt him, and here he was, failing to fulfill the one promise he really cared about.

Hap was entirely out of ideas, so he followed his instincts: he slid under the covers and fit himself against Leonard’s back, putting a firm arm around him from behind, talking all the while.

“This is a bad one, huh, Leonard? I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop it, Len, but I’m here now. You’re safe, Len. I promise. Forever, Leonard. You’re safe.”

Leonard stiffened at first, but then he relaxed like a string had been cut, melting back into Hap and sleepily pulling Hap’s left arm more firmly across his chest. 

“Oh Leonard,” Hap sighed. “It would all be so much easier if you’d just ask.” He wrapped Leonard up as tightly as he could and closed his eyes.

+++

Hap awoke before Leonard did and carefully untangled himself from his still sleeping friend. He got the paper and was making coffee when he heard Len come into the kitchen.

“Hap.”

Hap nodded at the coffee pot. “Leonard.” 

“Bacon this morning, you think?”

Hap turned and raised his eyebrows. “Bacon! What’s the occasion?”

Len shrugged, refusing to break eye contact. “We gotta have a special reason for bacon now? I didn’t go to war for there to be rules about _bacon,_ Hap.”

+++

That night, Hap waited to shower until he heard Leonard get into bed. He made the water hot and took his time, delaying to give Len time to make whatever choice he was going to make. He towel dried his hair, brushed his teeth with a thoroughness that was frankly alarming, threw on a tshirt and boxers and opened the bathroom door, prepared to make his way to his couch. Just like he did every night.

“Hey, Hap?”

Hap stopped, and reversed his steps until he was standing in the doorway of Leonard’s room. Len was propped up against the headboard with a book in his lap — one of his cowboy pulps, from the look of the cover — and the covers pulled up to his waist.

“There some reason you tryin' to use up all of the hot water?”

Hap’s lips twitched and lowered his head, willing himself not to smile. “Just felt I deserved it tonight, Leonard. You got some sort of problem with bein’ clean?”

Len grunted and slid down in the bed. “Get the light, would you?” He flipped the sheets back on Hap’s side of the bed, and rolled away to put his book on the nightstand.

Hap was reasonably certain he successfully turned the light off before he smiled, but he definitely smiled, big and delighted as he climbed into Leonard’s bed. Len’s back was to him and, when Hap laid down, he could see the back freeze. For a second, it seemed like Leonard was holding his breath. 

Hap closed this distance between them and gingerly put his arm across Len’s chest. Len immediately settled back into him like it was the most natural thing in the world (it was the most natural thing in the world) and shifted in what looked to Hap a lot like contentment.

“Night, Leonard.”  
“Night, Hap. Love you, Hap.”  
“Love you too, Leonard.”

+++

Leonard still had the occasional night terror, but they were exceptions rather than the rule. He still never talked about them, but he’d clench Hap’s hand and Hap would mutter stupid, soothing shit in his ear when the terrors surfaced, and eventually they went away and the sun came up. Leonard was there, and Leonard was safe, and Hap had everything he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the timeline established by the books -- Hap dropped out of college in 1970 and was drafted shortly thereafter. I'm assuming about the same for Leonard, so I figured they're 23ish when the get home from Vietnam and/or Leavenworth. You didn't actually go to prison if you were a CO, but I _think_ the show sets it up that way, so I went with it.
> 
> (I have so many feelings about this show and these idiots that it causes me immense pain.)
> 
> Title from _Lost Boy_ , by The Midnight.


End file.
